The Demi-Dozen
by Jaybird9876
Summary: First Sergeant Perseus Jackson wasn't made for a life of peace. He was made for battle. He thrived on combat. Fast forward a few years after the Giant War, he and five other demigods are apart of a legendary group of Marines. The Demi Dozen. No true pairing. Five OCS and randomly named Marines. Just a One-Shot. May turn into more. Depends
1. Chapter 1

_This story is loosely based off of the March 23rd Ambush in Iraq and the infamous ambush in the city of Benghazi. _

_This story is not supposed to be a 'remake' of these historical events and is not meant to offend anyone. _

_As someone whose paternal grandfather was a Former United States Marine and a CIA Officer, whose maternal grandfather was a Former Navy Officer, and whose cousin now serves in the United States Air Force, I thank all of the brave and honorable soldiers in the world for putting their lives on the line for their country. _

_**Warnings: Descriptive Combat Scenes, Heavy Violence, and Swearing**_.

**Percy will only be referred to as Jackson.**

**July 17th, 2015 **

**Registan Desert, Afghanistan**

**Marine Convoy**

In the middle of the Registan Desert, the hum of a half dozen Humvees and three APCS could be heard loud and clear.

The convoy consisted of about ninety battle-hardened Marines.

Ninety Marines who didn't legally exist.

The tinkering of spent rounds rolling around on the vehicle's floor was barely audible for the six heavily-armed men aboard the lead Humvee. These soldiers were the best of the best. Their skills surpassing their squad mates to an almost inhuman level.

These men were known by many names and titles, unofficially of course, depending on who was speaking of them.

To their enemies they were known as The Devil's Sixes. They were rumored to be evil beings who cut down followers of any Non-Satanic religion. This was mainly bogus propaganda that many ignored.

To their allies, they were called Heaven's ArchAngels. They were "six angels in disguise". They slaughtered enemy forces, saved their fellow combatants, and protected the innocent.

Only the dead knew the truth about the true identity of the six men.

They were the Demi-Dozen. A half dozen retired demigods armed with M4A1s and Colt 1911s.

Demigods that had fought in both the Second Titan War and the Second Giant War. Those who had saved the world twice and lived to tell the tale.

When the time for peace had returned, the hardened half-bloods knew immediately they couldn't live peacefully like everyone else could. These men were born to fight. They were born to serve and protect, whether it be mortals or their fellow demigods.

They were soldiers, and damn good ones.

"Hey Sarge!" A six foot one African American Son of Ares called out from the driver's seat. The sergeant looked to his lieutenant with a questioning gaze. The devilish smirk on his face told him he would probably regret listening.

"You know, everyone here knows about each other's, albeit currently nonexistent, sex life. Who's your old lady?"

Before he could speak, most likely to tell his friend to piss off, the five foot ten Hispanic Son of Hephaestus manning the Humvee's turret called over his shoulder, not tearing his vision off of the surrounding dunes.

"Speak for yourself Mitch, you know I'm fucking a different senora every other night! Chicks can't resist the Hispanic charm amigos."

"We all know that's bullshit Cortez. You have a better chance of getting citizenship then getting laid." The five foot eight Son of Pluto in the passenger's seat quipped.

"Ah fuck you Doom and Gloom." Was the only remark Cortez gave back. All was silent for a few seconds.

"Hey esse, I bet Caldwell will fuck you for a chocolate bar. Ain't that right C?" Cortez yells to the Son of Pluto.

Caldwell was a five foot seven twenty year old Son of Apollo. While younger than the others, his aim with a marksman rifle was unrivaled. His skills with weapons definitely made up for his small stature.

"Don't bring his dad into this Cortez, remember last time?" The sergeant remarked, smirking slightly at his squadmates banter. His smirk widened when he heard Cortez groan.

"Don't remind me holmes. I still feel the arrows in my ass."

"Good to know you like assplay Cortez. So are you a top or bottom guy?" A deep voice chuckled from the back. The last man was the tallest of the Group, and the fastest for sure. The six foot four, one hundred forty pound Son of Hermes was the jokester of the group. The one who was never in a truly bad mood. The type of guy to laugh at the enemy when they shoot at him.

"Come on Rehab, not you too!" Cortez complained. Everyone in the vehicle chuckled.

Since Eric was a Son of Hermes and naturally faster than all mortals, the Marine Corps immediately assumes he was taking steroids, hence the nickname Rehab.

They sat in comfortable silence as they enjoyed each other's silent company.

"I got a wife and a precious baby girl waiting for me stateside. Beautiful woman, love of my life." Jackson says after a bit. The men didn't speak but he knew they heard him. He looked down at the GPS before sitting up in his cramped seat, pulling Cortez inside the Humvee, and closing the turret cover.

"Okay guys, we're about four miles away from the extraction point. When we get into the city I want you to get our men into position ASAP. Cortez. Dylan. I need you and Delta squad to provide recon from the rooftops. We'll be here for about six hours so I want backup plans and backup plans for our backup plans." Jackson said, pulling out a map of the small city they would be arriving in. The two nodded their agreement.

Pointing at the circled area in the town square, Jackson spoke to Rehab and Caldwell. "I want you two to take the guys from Bravo and Charlie squad and form a two mile perimeter. I want all city entrances to be shut down and guarded, checkpoints every five hundred yards, and thorough searches of anything that can fucking move."

"Mitch and I will be clearing out the buildings with Alpha squad. When we get word that the chopper is enroute, I want Bravo squad, Rehab, and Caldwell to rendezvous point B. Mitch and I will have Charlie squad cover Alpha's and Delta's six as they leave the city. I want eyes peeled and radio contact."

**Four hours later.**

**Small remote town**

**Population: 147**

**First Sergeant Perseus Jackson**

"Clear right!"

"Hallway Clear!"

"Clear Left!"

"Rooms clear! Stack up!"

Before the squad can breach, bullets fly through the wooden door, hitting one of the Marines in the upper thigh and another in the chest and face. They both fall to the ground, one struggling to look into the room, the other motionless.

"CONTACT. THREE TANGOS. AUTOMATIC RIFLE. FIFTEEN FEET IN! BEHIND TABLE! BEH-" The one hit in the leg is cut off as two 7.62 rounds pierce through his lower neck and in his left eye, cutting off his supply of air and obliterating many key brain functions.

"Private Johnson!" Jackson calls out over the never-ending gunfire. A nineteen year-old marine makes his way to his superior, keeping his head low.

"I need you to take a flashbang! I'm going to make us a distraction! When I give the signal, throw it!"

"Throw it where Sarge?" The teenager asks in confusion. When Jackson smirks devilishly at him, he understands that it will be obvious.

"ROBERTS! HENDERSON! KEEP FIRE ON THE DOOR! I NEED AS MUCH NOISE AS YOU CAN GIVE ME!"

"MASON AND BRIGGS ON ME. MITCH WATCH OUR SIX. EVERYONE ELSE GET THEIR ASSES UP TO THE NEXT FLOOR."

"ON IT SARGE!" The men replied from behind the concrete pillars and wooden furniture thrown around the hallway, before releasing controlled bursts of rounds at the door and running up the next flight of stairs.

Jackson slings his M4A1 behind his back and moves away from the door. He enters the neighboring apartment with Mitch and the two other privates. The privates sweep the room once more for anymore enemies. After confirming it's vacant they return to Jackson and Mitch. Jackson holds up a fist and the three marines stop all movement.

Jackson waits for a few minutes, finding a rhythm in the gunfire Henderson and Roberts are putting into the door before listening for the return fire of the enemy.

"Briggs. Aim here. Shoot twice. Mason. Here. Two times. Mitch, unleash a five round burst two inches apart from each other here." He says, to the astonishment of the privates, before aiming his M4 at a spot far from the other's.

"When these guys return fire again, let it rip." Jackson commands. The privates nod and aim their M4s at the designated spots. "FLASHBANG NOW JOHNSON!" Jackson yells as he fires a full ten round burst through the wall. The plaster breaks easily and destroys a large portion of the wooden door to the room.

Soon, a loud pop is heard and ten shots are released. The sounds of three bodies collapsing to the floor informs them of their success.

"TANGOS DOWN!"

"Breaching! Breaching!"

"Clear Right!"

"Clear Left!"

"Movement Ahead!"

"Flashbang Out!"

"Moving!"

"Civilians!"

"Contact! Move! Move!" Gunfire is heard before another body collapses to the wooden floor.

"Tango's History!"

"FUCK! MAN DOWN! I NEED A MEDIC NOW!"

"Room Clear!"

"All Clear! Sarge! We Need You Now!"

Jackson quickly makes his way to the downed private and begins to apply pressure to his wounded chest.

"Hang in there son. I'm not gonna lose you!" Jackson yelled at the man. "Medic!"

"Sarge…" he replies weakly as a medic runs over to them. He gives the wounded man a shot of morphine and begins to check for other wounds. When he sees the massive wound to the chest, the medic knows it's over. He looks to Jackson and shakes his head slowly, then bows his head.

"It wa- it was an hono-r to se-rve with you." The man coughs out. He reaches his hand up to grasp Jackson's arm. The sergeant returns the grasp and shakes his head.

"No soldier. The honor was all mine."

The private reaches for his dog tags, weakly yanks them off of his neck, and slowly places it in Jackson's calloused hand.

Blood began to dribble from the dying man's mouth as his blood began to fill his lungs and travel up his trachea. He struggles to breathe for a few seconds before finally stilling. Jackson reaches a shaky hand up to the deceased man's calm face and closes his lifeless eyes. He looks to the bloody dog tags in his hand.

_Baker_

_Jared A Pos_

_USMC M_

_Christian_

Slowly rising from the soldiers body, his eyes began to slightly glow. These cowards killed two of his men. He hadn't lost a man in over two years, just to lose TWO of them to an ambush of all fucking things.

"Roberts. Henderson." He called out, the barely controlled anger definitely clear in his tone. He was pissed.

"Here Sergeant!" The two privates called out hastily, rushing to his side. They've only seen the First Sergeant mad once and it was so terrifying, they never spoke of it again. One of the marines even transferred to a different platoon in fear of ever evoking that anger.

"Grab Baker and Reynolds and bring them to the APC. Sanitize, bag, and tag them. I may not have brought them home alive, but I'll be damned if their family doesn't have something to bury."

"Yes sir!" They replied and got to work. Jackson stood in the middle of the destroyed room before finally snapping.

"FUCKING PRICKS!" He roared, the surrounding marines jumping at the abrupt yell. Jackson grabbed the edge of a table and flung it across the room, thankfully not towards any other soldiers.

Mitch, seeing the impending doom, ordered everyone out of the room and to help the others clear out the upper floors. They complied without hesitation.

When Mitch and Jackson were alone, all hell broke loose.

"I'm going to fucking hunt down every single one of these fuckers and burn them alive." Jackson growled in an almost demonic tone. A red haze began to descend upon his vision as he walked over to the dead enemies and grabbed one of them. Dragging the body to the window, which he proceeded to break with the butt of his M4, he tried to commit the first act of a long dark path.

He was about to throw the body out the fifth story window.

"PERSEUS JACKSON STOP NOW!" Mitch yelled, aiming his Colt 1911 at the wall next to his superior and firing it once.

"First Sergeant Perseus Jackson, I'm going to count to fucking three and if that body is not placed back down on the floor, I'm going to send the next .45 ACP round into your skull." He commanded.

The rage induced haze Jackson was seeing slowly disappeared and the dead body dropped from his shoulder. Seconds later he was brought down to the ground by Mitch and restrained.

"I'm sorry Jackson, but you almost committed a war crime. As your friend and squadmate, I'm detaining you until this mission is over." Mitch stated. Picking up his handcuffed friend, he lead Jackson by the upper arm out of the room. Calling three other marines guarding the floor they were on, the five men proceeded down the five flights of stairs. Once on the street, they made their way to the Demi-Dozens Humvee. The five climbed in and sat down, with Jackson in between them all.

"Get our men out of that building Mitch. I'm not losing anyone else." Jackson replied.

"That's not your choice to make right now Jackson." Mitch said, climbing out of the Humvee and slamming the door shut. Jackson sighed as his head flopped backwards.

"Sarge?" One of the men tried to get his attention.

"Yes soldier?"

"We'll make sure everyone is brought home Sarge. No man left behind." The marine replied, getting nods of agreement from the other two. Jackson glanced at the three men, all looking to be in their late twenties. A soft smile graced his lips as he nodded his head.

"Yes we will."


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Wow. I've got some nice messages about this story so I decided to hold off on Hitman and Asgardians Hope. I will still leave it up to vote for the next story idea so keep voting by either leaving a review or sending me a message. _

_If this story gets at least five more follows/favorites or enough reviews to refill my confidence levels within the next week then I will continue it. _

_Anyways, enjoy chapter two :)_

_Warnings: Descriptive Combat Scenes, Graphic Violence, Major Swearing. _

**July 18th, 2015, 0600 Hours**

**Afghanistan**

**Extraction Point**

**First Sergeant Perseus Jackson**

Jackson's wrists should have been sore and rubbed raw after wearing the handcuffs for almost two hours in a cramped Humvee, but he had been through worse. His body was, unfortunately, conditioned for torture and combat.

The sleeping Son of Poseidon looked nothing like the serious, deadly Marine he usually was. The air around him had stopped being thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, the tension having left his body being the main cause. The smile he wore was so small, it was almost non-existent.

The other members of the Demi-Dozen, as well as the rest of the Alpha and Bravo squad had hunkered down in the surrounding apartments, vehicles, and small shops. Civilians had cleared the street hours ago when the first shots were heard, choosing boredom over not dying.

"Hey Corporal Mitch? I'm seeing some abnormal activity about one mile out by the marketplace." One of the members of Alpha squad called out over his radio. Mitch looked to the sniper that called out to him from the broken window of the fifth story. The window conveniently permitted a wide view of the surrounding desert and over three fourths of the city.

"Eyes peeled men, I don't like this." Mitch said to the other men before returning his attention to the sniper.

"What do you see, Sniper One?" Mitch radioed back.

"I don't know what the hell im looking at sir, but it isn't here to deliver cookies. That's for sure." The sniper replied back slowly before briefly removing his eye from the scope. After a second passed, he returned to the scope and saw something that chilled his blood.

"Targets incoming! I see some Technicals and light armored vehicles rolling in! ETA three minutes and closing. Hold for more information." He radioed back rapidly, shifting the Mark 13's bipod ever so slightly to look for any weaponry and estimate the headcount.

"Combatants are moderately armed. Weaponry mostly consists of AKMS with an underbarrel launcher. I'm seeing some RPGS, fragmentation grenades, and I believe AK74s. Technicals have mounted RPKS but no front shielding. I count just a bit under one hundred foot soldiers." He replied, quickly and clearly. Mitch swore and began to give orders.

"Fuck!" His gaze wandered to the adjacent apartment buildings, both of which overlooked the Main Street. An idea came to his head quickly.

"Alpha and Bravo squad! I want y'all to occupy the northern apartment complex. Do not engage until told to. Charlie squad will take the southern complex. I want snipers on the fifth to seventh floors on opposite sides of the building. The rest of you will be evenly spread out among the third, fourth, and fifth floors. Go!" He told the soldiers. They quickly got their shit together and dashed their way up the apartment stairwells.

"Brenson, radio in a request for air support and tell the extraction team to hurry the fuck up! Delta squad on me!" Mitch told them, when the marines were with him, he told them his plan. The grins on their faces told him they were in.

Soon, one of the six Humvees were jutting out from a massive hole in an abandoned store. The other five were positioned down alleyways and behind walls.

The marines responded with grace and speed and within seventy seconds, were done. They had positioned themselves in the buildings, the air support had been radioed in and accepted, and the ambush was set and ready.

Two Comanches from the nearest covert air base were enroute with the Extraction team. Soon the sounds of vehicles and men speaking in Arabic were heard. The men saw the 'crashed' Humvee and began to approach it with caution. They were thirty feet away from the vehicle.

"Hold." Mitch said quietly.

_Twenty feet_

"Hold…"

When the men reached fifteen feet, all Hell broke loose. Jackson appeared in the crashed Humvees gunner turret and immediately opened fire on the nearby Arabs. The hidden combat vehicles shot out of the alleyways and crashed into the techies, sending their gunners off the trucks. With almost seventy men providing constant gunfire from above, six Humvees spitting hundreds of rounds, and ten snipers picking off targets with deadly accuracy, the majority of the opposition was cut down before they could even take cover.

Then the three light armored trucks came. Gunfire began to erupt from the manmade openings on the truck and soon the Marines were forced to take cover. The six Humvees took off from the scene but still returning fire. They split up and raced down side roads and alleyways which the enemy couldn't drive through.

The three trucks began to control the pace of the engagement as thirty more Arabs poured out of the transports. They took cover behind walls, cars, and inside stores. The battle turned to a stalemate within thirty seconds.

"WHERE IS THAT DAMN AIR SUPPORT BRENSON?!" Mitch yelled out from the front seat.

"TWO MINUTES AND COUNTING SIR! EXTRACTION TEAM WON'T LAND UNTIL IT'S SAFE!" Brenson yelled back, continuing to shoot anything that tried to attack them.

Two minutes, thousands of spent rounds, and ninety dead enemies later, the sound of helicopter blades began to be heard.

The transports began to attempt to escape the impending doom. As the Comanches came into view, thousands of rounds were released from the choppers. The bullets piercing through the vehicles and killing all of the occupants of two vehicles.

The third truck's fuel tank was hit by the gunfire and erupted. The fire of the explosion lifted the truck and its charred occupants almost thirty feet into the air before crashing back down onto the street.

Perseus crawled out of the gunner's turret, and flopped onto his back. Looking up at the Comanches, his eyes widen at who he believes is in the pilot seat of one of them.

"Sorry we were late to the party, _Sergeant_ Jackson. You're on your own from now until you get back to base cause we are at bingo fuel. Hope you got your wings ready, cause you're needed stateside by 1400 hours." Leo truthfully reported. Well, the fuel part was partly true, as one of the Comanches still had a fourth of a tank, but Leo wasn't taking any chances.

Jackson grimaced at his old friend's statement. He had left that world behind a long time ago, but it seems Lady Styx wanted to play some more with his life.

Jackson lazily saluted the helicopter and after sitting up against the Humvee, watched as his old war friend flew off into the early morning sky.

**July 19th, 2015, 1400 Hours**

**Empire State Building, New York, USA**

**Main Lobby**

**First Sergeant Perseus Jackson **

As Jackson walked through the grand lobby of what used to be almost a fourth home to him(with camp half-blood being second and New Rome being third) he couldn't help but reminisce about his past.

He had stopped World War Three from happening when he was _fucking twelve_. He stopped the world's destruction at eighteen! He even helped a god regain his immortality! Apparently that wasn't enough for the bitter Goddess of the River of Hate.

With a massive scowl on his face, he walked his way to the front desk employee. The mortals around him staring in awe at his bloodied and dust-covered uniform. He hadn't been able to change on the way here, so he looked exactly like he did at 2 AM this morning.

Coming to an abrupt stop at the front desk, the employee immediately recognized him and fell out of his chair. Regaining his composure and saluting the demigod, he handed him the special key.

"First Sergeant Jackson! Welcome Back!" He replied quickly.

"At ease." Jackson replied, then leaned in to whisper into the man's ear.

"No one comes in. No one comes out. Understand? If an immortal comes out here, tell them they can fight whatever they are fighting without me and my squad."

The man stared into Jackson's eyes and nodded slowly. He learned a lot over the past fifteen years working this job, but one lesson stuck with him forever.

Don't fuck with Percy Jackson.

**July 19th, 2015, 1425 hours**

**Mount Olympus**

**Throne Room**

**Poseidon**

When he saw his son enter the throne room with the grace of an apex predator, he was taken back to say the least. Even at a quick glance he could see that Percy had changed a lot. When the two locked eyes with each other, the anger and hate within the green eyes was abnormal and almost tangible.

His son was angry about something that was for sure. But what could possibly be imp-oh..._OH_.

_Oh That's...that's not good. _

Seeing his son was caked with blood and dust, he quickly connected the dots. When Jackson came to a halt in the middle of the room, he saluted to both him and, surprisingly, Ares. Ares stood up and shrunk down to mortal size.

"Lord Ares." His son addressed the god with a shameful look adoring his face.

"At ease soldier." Ares voice echoed throughout the awe stricken throne room. To their surprise, it was hoarse with grief.

Jackson knelt down, laid his M4 on the floor in front of the god's feet, and put his hands behind his head. "I have disgraced the honor of war today sir. I will take my punishment willingly."

"Ares. What does my son speak of?" Poseidon asked, voice laced with slight confusion and anger.

"If not for my son, First Sergeant Jackson here would be convicted of war crimes and sentenced to death by hanging." Ares said displeased. When Poseidon began to raise to his son's defense, Ares held his hand out.

"That being said, I do not condemn his actions completely. Good men were ambushed and killed not ten hours ago...and I would have done the same to those bastards that Jackson would have."

He looked down at the still kneeling Son of Poseidon before pulling him up to his feet. He tapped his foot against the ground and the M4 flew to his hand.

"You're missions ain't over soldier. Make me proud." Ares said, with what seemed to be a hint of respect in his tone.

"Yes sir!" Jackson replied, snapping a flawless salute before straightening up and standing at flawless attention. His ADHD having been tamed and muzzled to the point it was almost non-existent. The silence was deafening.

"First Sergeant Perseus Allen Jackson. Twice Savior of Olympus and the world itself. Bane of giants and titans alike. Survivor of the horrors of Tartarus and slayer of Gaia. Commanding officer of a top secret special forces squad known as the Demi Dozen. Received a Silver star in early 2013, a Medal of Honor in late 2014, two Purple Hearts in 2015, and two Deity's Crosses. One in 2014 and one in 2013. Cold stone killer but follows orders to a T. Married to a Sopova Sofya Valentinovna. Has one seventeen month old daughter and a son on the way. Currently emotionally distressed but remains calm and composed. Not a threat to Olympus." Athena listed off his achievements and doings of his life in a monotonous voice. Poseidon's eyebrow twitches in ire at how callous and infuriatingly bitchy Athena was being.

"Okay. That's it." The man of the hour said, his voice rising. "Can someone please inform me of what the hell was so important that I was dragged halfway across the world from the bodies of the men I failed today? What was so important that it warranted leaving the families of those four men in their grief for longer than they should be. I need to be at those damn families! Those are my men! Why am I here?!"

Percy was yelling at this point, the stress of the past two days finally getting to him. He took his helmet off and glared at us. He whirled around and threw his helmet across the room and hit a pillar with the speed of a bullet. Part of the pillar chipped off but was immediately fixed by the magic tubes adorning Olympus.

"**FUCKING WHY?!**"

"Calm yourself Perseus." A soft, soothing voice chided. Hestia stared at him with a mixture of pity and sadness, but also pride and gratitude.

We all shifted in our thrones as the tension and anger coming from the demigod dissipated. A few minutes later, he had returned to his previous stance. Feet together, head raised defiantly, and eyes burning with a tamed fire.

"You are here because of a new threat to Humanity. One that the god's truly have no ability to intervene, whether the ancient laws allow it or not. This is a completely mortal problem, and must be dealt with by mortals and half bloods." Zeus answered after a few seconds of silence.

Zeus looked around for someone to continue. His brother seemed to know that he probably shouldn't explain any further.

If the council was shocked by the happenings so far, they were floored by who talked next.

**July 19th, 2015, 1500 hours**

**Mount Olympus**

**Throne Room**

**Artemis**

"I'm sure you remember the relationship between mortal wars and demigod wars, First Sergeant Jackson?" She inquired the fierce warrior before her. She could see that he was no longer the mirth-filled boy that had held the weight of the entire sky for her, which saddened her beyond belief.

His naïveté had left after the Giant war, much of his humor a few years after that, and then many of his other emotions months later. He was a shell of the man he once was. Whether that was a good shell or a bad shell was up for debate.

Her belief? It was a good shell. Even if he wasn't the same man who gave others happiness at the cost of his own, or the cheeky bastard who was infuriatingly skilled at taunting immortals and surviving...he was still the same determined demigod soldier. A role model for the young and the pride and joy of the old.

Jackson did and said nothing out of respect for the hierarchy of the room. Artemis knew immediately that she liked the new him more than the old.

"At ease Sergeant." She replied with a stern-yet oddly comforting-tone. His body relaxed but he remained in a respectful position. He still knew the pecking order here.

"Yes I do Lady Artemis." He replied. "Permission to speak freely, Milady?"

She simply nodded her head, curious as to how much he has improved in the critical thinking department.

**July 19th, 2015, 1515 hours**

**Mount Olympus**

**Throne Room**

**First Sergeant Perseus Jackson **

Jackson lowered his head in thought, eyebrows scrunched up as his eyes shot rapidly around in front of him.

"I'm assuming since World War Three hasn't happened yet, some group of powerful mortals have started to stir trouble? Maybe another demigod with a vendetta against the gods trying to pull something akin to Hitler?"

The demigod felt more than saw the Lord of the Underworlds glare bearing into his skull.

"My apologies Lord Hades. I understand this topic is quite touchy." The sergeant apologized.

He felt the glare tone down a bit and returned his attention to the Goddess of the Moon.

"Yes that is correct. In the past few months, Hermes reported that there had been a great increase in Guam's population." Artemis replies before gesturing to Hermes.

"At first I was under the assumption it was just refugees of South America or some shipwreck survivors making it to the island. But then I felt the power of almost twenty demigods in a single area of the forest." Hermes said.

Jackson cocked his head to the side at the oddly specific statement.

"I'm assuming this forest is mighty important?" He asked, already starting to see how bad the situation is.

"During the Cold War with the Soviet Union, Guam unofficially became a research 'bunker' for the development of weapons of mass destruction. Nukes, lasers, rail guns, etc. were developed and shipped to be tested in remote locations. This continued until the bunker was shutdown in 1989. The bunker was cleared of all documents and weaponry, and remained abandoned."

"Until recently, when a bunch of revolutionaries decide to move in and fortify the place?" Jackson finished.

Hermes nodded gravely. Jackson sighed in exhaustion. He donned his combat helmet again and began to gather his armaments. "You know my price...I'm not bound to Olympus anymore. Remember your oath Lord Zeus." He said before leaving the throne room.

**July 19th, 2015, 1700 hours**

**New York**

**James Street Apartment **

**First Sergeant Perseus Jackson**

Staring back at his new uniform with rapidly dulling eyes stood Gracie Baker. The mother of the soldier who he failed to save. Jackson's voice shook slightly as he began introducing himself.

"M-Mrs. Baker. I am First Sergeant Perseus Jackson. May I speak with you about something of the utmost importance?"

Her eyes began to well up and, after gesturing him in, began to walk to the kitchen area. She sat down with an older man and gripped his hand tightly. Mr. Baker stared at him with a knowing look.

Jackson went to speak but he held up his hand.

"I see the pain and regret in your eyes son...all I must know is...how did my son go out?" He asked.

Jackson swallowed thickly before taking off his cap. He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

"Private Jared Baker went out a hero sir." He paused for a second and then stared at the married couple, "What I am going to say does not get repeated to anyone else, understand?" The sergeant asked slowly, his tone dead serious. They nodded at him and the story began.

"We had just begun to start clearing out the fifth floor when we were ambushed. Two of my men went down...one didn't get back up, and the other...god bless his soul, he kept fighting till the end. He started giving us positions of the enemies until he was no longer with us. After we had managed to clear out the room of enemies, your son helped breach and clear. He was a solid soldier and a great man. He had called out that there were civilians and tangos in the room. When they breached he ended up tackling one of the men holding a seven year old girl at gunpoint, causing the man to discharge his weapon at Jared. If not for your son, I fear that not only would the lives of many more of my men be lose, but the loves of the women and children being held hostages would be gone too. You raised a great son and it was an honor and a privilege to be one of his brothers in arms."

The man quirked a very very small smile at the story. "That sounds so much like Jared." He stared at Jackson for a bit longer. "Do not blame yourself for his death First Sergeant. If I recall how my son treated his friends and family, he would most definitely try to fight his way out of hell to beat your moping ass for blaming yourself."

Jackson chuckled hollowly at the undoubtedly true statement. "You're right sir…" he paused for a second and took in the details of the man in front of him. His entire attitude and presence screamed military.

"I was 101st Airborne, Sergeant." The man said with a smile. Jackson's nodded his head, stood up, and saluted the veteran. The man stood and saluted back. The couple walked with him back to the door and as he opened it, he left them with a final parting gift. He handed his personal 'business card' that he made to give out for whenever a situation like this would happen.

"If you need anything...anything at all, don't hesitate to call me."


	3. Announcement

Sorry if you thought this was another chapter.

Quick update on my stories: I've...well...i've lost much of my i guess dedication? motivation? whatever it is, i've lost it in writing more chapters or stories.

So far, i've only been able to complete the first chapter of a story and then I'm just like "meh." after that. I was thinking about beginning to just make opening chapters, posting them here, and letting one of y'all run with it.

I've got the Asgardians Hope, the Hitman, and a Military!Rock Black Lagoon opening chapter written. if you would like to take my chapter and run with it, inform me of it and make sure to give me due credit.

i've given up on my Assassins Creed Percy Jackson crossover...it is up for adoption. You know how to get permission.

I'm also starting on my very own original novel. Post-Nuclear Wasteland USSR basically.

Anyways, i'm very sorry for all of this and I will attempt someday to come back.


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